A Summer's Tale
by liar
Summary: Draco and Hermione end up spending their summer together, but will their be a happy ending and romance blossom? DMHG, written for a writing challenge on Fawke's Ashes.
1. Much Ado About Nothing?

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any other of J.K. Rowling's characters.**

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Author's note: **I hope you enjoy reading my story and please, leave a review. They always make me feel good. J I will update once a week, usually every Friday night. Thank you Kris for beta-reading, your are a fantastic beta and I don't know what I would do without you.

All kinds of comments and criticism are welcome.

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This story is being written for a Writing Challenge on Fawke's Ashes. You can find the criteria I have to match right here:****

**Summer Holiday Challenge**  
  
Write a fic of the trio's ( or - any additional characters you wish) Summer holiday. It can be the Summer holiday after OoTP or a later one.  
  
You must include at least **3** of the following things...  
  
- a character gets sunburn  
  
- two characters kiss  
  
- a game of some sort is played  
  
- a character says "I wouldn't be seen dead in a bunny suit! Least of all pink!"  
  
- two or more characters have a fist fight  
  
- a character cries  
  
- a character gets a cold  
  
- a character says "Stop doing that, I might catch something."  
  
- a party

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A Summer's Tale**

**Chapter 1**

**Much Ado about Nothing?**

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe that only a month before she had debarked from the Hogwarts Express for the very last time as a student. NEWTs had long since passed and she had been anxiously waiting for the exam results to arrive, ever since she got home to her parents.

Today was the day. She had known from the very moment that she opened her eyes in bed that today the results would finally arrive, and there they were.

A brown Barn Owl had dropped them graciously on her desk and swooped back out of the open window, without even waiting for a treat.

The brown envelop lay there innocently, only waiting for her to open it. Hermione knew that her results would probably be good, but good was not good enough. Hermione Granger never was satisfied with only being good. She had to be the best. Her fingers trembled and she could feel nervousness sweep over her body in tiny, but rapid waves that sent jolts down her spin and made her stomach churn.

Carefully, with bated breath, she tore at the wax that sealed the envelope. It broke easily and just as carefully as before, she unfolded the letter.

A grin spread on her face. Passed, she knew she had passed, failing was out of the question. And then, her grin broadened.

"Top of the year," she whispered, then screamed "Top of the year! Mum, Dad! I made it! I am top of my class! Mum!" 

Hell seemed to break loose in the Granger Household that day in early August. As soon as Hermione had read the results, she had stormed down the stairs and straight into her parents' dentist rooms, regardless that they were actually treating patients at that moment. However, sometimes there are more important things in life than caries and teeth, and Mrs. Granger as well as her husband stopped being dentists for that day and instead celebrated their daughter's success.

Later that day, after all Grandparents and uncles and aunts had been phoned and told that Hermione had finally gotten her exam results and had now officially left this "posh school for specially gifted children somewhere up in the north where you can't really go and visit," the Grangers sat down to have tea.

"Well, Hermione," her father said and put down his wineglass. He had opened a very special bottle of red wine to celebrate the occasion. "We haven't really talked about this yet, darling, but, do you already have thought about your plans after Hogwarts?"

"Oh, of course, Daddy, you see, there are millions of possibilities. I could apply for a job at the Ministry of Magic or try and pass the entrance exam for Aurors-" Hermione said, excitement clearly audible in her voice.

"Well, darling, sure," her mother interrupted her and shot a knowing glance at her husband. Putting her hand on her daughter's arm to calm her down a little, she cautiously continued, "Hermione, your father and I have been talking about your future, too, and we thought, well, we thought, why don't you try and go for a normal career?"

"A normal career?" Hermione repeated slowly, deliberately emphasizing the word normal. "I can understand if you don't want me to become an Auror, Mum, but a job at the Ministry is perfectly normal and safe, I guarantee you."

"No, Hermione, when your mother said normal, she meant something, well, something non-magic."

"Pardon?"

Her mother was now fidgeting in her seat nervously. She was still patting Hermione's arm and gave her a tentative smile. "You see, we thought you might want to go to college. Or if not college, maybe you'd like to start working in an office or for a newspaper or something. As you said, there are countless of opportunities."

"Hermione, you're a sensible young woman. You're nearly eighteen and it's about time you start thinking about your future, you can't honestly believe that you can earn a living being a witch." Mr. Granger added, perhaps sounding a little harsher then he actually intended to.

Hermione couldn't believe what she had just heard her parents say. She was speechless. Hadn't her parents always been there for her? They had even come to Diagon Alley and seen what the Wizarding World was like.

"So you suggest I give up being a witch?" she asked slowly.

"No, no, darling, you misunderstood us entirely," her mother said with a little laugh. "No, you can still perform your magic round the house, if you want to, some of these household spells come in really handy-"

"But you don't want me to get a wizarding job? Or go to a wizarding university?" Hermione finished the sentence for her mother.

"Hermoine, look, don't you think your grandparents start to wonder sometimes what you're doing? In the past seven years you hardly paid them a visit, you hardly even were at home! For heaven's sake, don't you think that they ask us what's the matter with you? They can't send you letters since they can't very well owl you. It wasn't even possible to give you a phone call up there in this bloody boarding school! I'm sure the whole family would be delighted to hear that you're a witch! They'd all think we'd gone crazy! Oh, right a witch, that's-"

Hermione didn't bother to listen to the rest of her father's words. She had gotten up from the table and had run upstairs, locking herself in her room. Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away. No, she wouldn't cry. Hurriedly, she grabbed her backpack and stuffed some of her books and cloths in it. She couldn't stay here in her parents' house another minute. She needed to get away this instant, she had to talk to someone, someone who would understand her. Outside, she could hear her mother come upstairs, already, she knocked at her door and called her name.

Clutching her wand and her bag tightly, Hermione said "The Burrow", and with a loud pop, she apparated away.

* * *

"I told you, Ron, you stayed outside too long," Mrs Weasley said and applied some after-sun-potion on her youngest son's face.

"But, Mum, it's not even warm outside. I honestly didn't think I'd get sunburnt," he wailed. "Ouch, that hurt, can't you be a bit more careful! Ouch!"

"Ouch," echoed Ginny her brother. She was playing a lively game of Exploding Snap with Fred and George and the three of them were enthusiastically filling the small room with smoke, booms and bangs. The twins had developed a new set of cards where from time to time the cards of one player would explode without reason, setting a little hex free at the same time and right now Ginny was their guinea pig. Already, she sported some nasty red spots and green whiskers. Her mother frowned looking at her, but turned her attention back to Ron.

"Yeah, Ronnikins, you look like a lobster!" laughed George and played another card which, again, exploded right in Ginny's face and turned her whiskers pink.

"Oh, Ron, you might have finished school, but you're certainly not yet grown-up and neither are your siblings," she sighed, "A grown-up would have known that you can get sunburnt even though there-"

Unfortunately, Mrs. Weasley's speech was interrupted by someone apparating directly into the middle of her living room.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted and got up from the sofa, nearly knocking the potion-bottle out of his mother's hands. "What are you doing here?"

Without waiting a second, Hermione threw herself into her friend's arms. "I got my exam-results today and-"

"Wait, don't tell me you failed, you're looking so solemn, I might really believe it," joked Ron and gave her a hug.

"No, I'm top of the class-"

"See, I knew it. Why didn't you owl us the results?"

"Hermione, top of the class, that's fantastic! Your parents must be awfully proud." Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Ron, I'm sure your results will be here soon, too, then!"

Ron paled a little despite his sunburn, but Ginny, being still a year and this summer holiday away from the NEWTs exams, squealed "Congratulations!" and played a card with a particularly nasty leg-locker hex which this time hit Fred for a change.

"Thank you, " Hermione replied weakly and sat down on the sofa.

"What's the matter, Hermione? You don't look the least bit happy. What happened?" Ron asked, as his mother bustled out of the room to put the potion away.

"I…kind of had a fight with my parents. Not really a fight, but, oh Ron, it was awful. Do you think I can stay with your family for a while?"

"No problem, I'm sure Mum won't have anything against it. You can stay with Ginny as usually." Ron sat down next to his friend and put his arm around her.

"Yeah, you can always have the second bed in my room, Hermione, no problem at all," Ginny assured her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Ron, "or would you like to go somewhere else, so that it's only the two of us?"

Hermione ignored the catcalls coming from the twins and shook her head.

"It's all right, we can stay here. You see, I really thought my parents would be happy for me, Ron, they really seemed happy and we celebrated and everything…and then…then my father started talking about me getting a job and I said I wanted to work for the Ministry or be an Auror…and well, they said I should stop being a witch!"

"You can't just stop being a witch, you're born a witch!" Fred laughed. "Muggles, they really think one could stop being a wizard."

Ron shook his head. "Really, Hermione, you shouldn't take their words too seriously. Fred's right. Your parent's are Muggles, you can't expect them to understand magic."

"What does that mean, Ronald Weasley?" Hermione asked.

Ron was fidgeting in his seat uncomfortably. Hermione's tone told him was walking on glass right now and if he wasn't careful, he would have to suffer from the consequences.

"Come on, they don't know anything about magic, it's only natural for them to keep their daughter down to their level of ability."

"Down to their level of ability? Has Malfoy hit you on the head with the Quaffel too often?"

Oh, too late. Ron had practically seen it coming, but hadn't been able to stop it. Not that these verbal fights was new to him, quarrels between Hermione and him happened on a nearly daily basis, but this time, he felt he was right for once. After all, he hadn't said and meant anything in the way Hermione interpreted it. However, he was good natured enough to try and explain his words to his friend.

"No, Hermione, you got me wrong, I didn't mean it like that, it's just that they're Muggles and-"

"Muggles! Ron, I thought you should know better than that! It doesn't make a difference whether one is born a wizard or a Muggle!" Hermione screeched. Had everyone around her gone mad?

Ginny, Fred and George had stopped to play cards and were looking at her.

"Hermione, calm down, it's just that Muggles-"

"No, Ron, I don't think I want to hear that any longer." Abruptly, Hermione got up and before Ron or anybody else could stop her, she had again apparated away.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was pacing restlessly up and down in his study. How could have things gone so wrong? Hadn't he always done his best to ensure that his son got the finest education possible for a pureblood? Hadn't he always tried to promote his son? To help him and support him? He should have never given in to Narcissa's wishes. It had been a mistake not to send Draco to Durmstrang. Now, he himself had to pay for this decision. It was not only that his marks could have been better, it was more his entire attitude. His son was weak, a coward. He wasn't worthy of the Malfoy name. But Lucius Malfoy would make sure that his son would finally see how he was to behave!

A timid knock on the door ended his train of thoughts quite abruptly.

"Yes! Come on, enter, I don't have all day!" he hissed as he walked in front of the fireplace and sat down in one of his comfortable, squashy armchairs.

Draco entered the study rather cautiously. He was well aware of the fact that his father had probably gotten hold of his NEWT exams and judging by the look on his face, he wasn't at all too happy.

"You wanted to talk to me, Father?"

"Well, want is not really the right expression, Draco, or do you think that any father enjoys talking to his son about the most horrible marks in a century?" was the sarcastic reply.

"I didnt fail, did I?" Draco's voice wavered. As cocky he was when he was with his mates, as timid and unsure he turned when he had to face his father.

"No, you didn't fail, but your marks are a disgrace none the less! Do you know who came first in your class? A Mudblood!"

"Granger," Draco whispered. Deep down in his heart he had known that it would be her. How could it not have been here, the bane of his life, second only to Harry Potter?

"From now on, I'll take matters in my own hands, Draco! I'll personally take care of your further education regarding all means necessary to make you learn how to behave, what it means to be a Malfoy!"

There was an open threat in these words. Draco could nearly feel the cold of the icy tone with which they had been spoken. He shivered.

"If you wish it," Draco finally managed to say, his hands curling into fists.

"Yes, I do indeed wish it. Now leave, I've got something else to do today as well."

Draco nodded and made his way to the door. It took him a lot of control not to break into run. All he wanted to do was run, run as fast and as far as his legs would carry him and never return back to his father. He had always admired Lucius Malfoy, always wanted to be like him, but he never even came close to fulfilling his expectations. It was fruitless, he'd never be good enough for him.

* * *

"Hello?" Petunia Dursely answered the phone with her usual sneer.

"Hello, this is Dr. Granger speaking, is Harry at home?"

"Dr. Granger? Harry-, well-"

"Please, Mrs Dursely, it's urgent, can I please talk to your nephew?"

Harry's aunt eyed the telephone suspiciously, whoever wanted to talk to her nephew was a very strange person in her opinion. However, this man was a doctor and he seemed to be quiet normal so, in short, she called Harry downstairs and handed him the phone.

"Hello?" Harry asked incredulously, it was quite out of the ordinary that someone would give him a call.

"Hello, Harry, this is Mr. Granger, Hermione's father."

"Oh, hi," Harry answered.

"Listen, Harry, we had a little argument with Hermione and now she has gone, and we don't have a clue where she could be. She is not with you, is she?"

"No, I'm sorry, she is not here."

"Well, okay then, you see, it's just not like Hermione to run-off not leaving a note-"

"Mr. Granger, I think she'll probably have gone to Ron. Don't worry, I'll go right there and check if she is and then I'll send her home to you."

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry could hear the relief in the older man's voice. 

"All right then, I'll be there in a second, I wanted to go there anyway. Don't worry, she'll be all right." With that, Harry hung up. It wasn't typical for Hermione to run away, her father was right with that, but Harry knew her long enough to tell that the first place she would go if ever such a case happened, would be the Burrow. Not wasting another minute, he ran back upstairs, took his wand and apparated. He certainly wouldn't bother to leave the Dursley's a note.


	2. Comedy of Errors

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own anything. Not even the chapter title.

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**Author's Note**: Please read and review J, hope you like it. 

Thank you to **Jilla de la Rio** for a really encouraging review. J And thank you for the smiley **Draco Improbus**, even though I'm not sure what you meant... J

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**A Summer's Tale**

**Chapter 2**

**Comedy of Errors**

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Draco Malfoy was lazily strolling through Diagon Alley. He still hadn't overcome his father's words from the night before and he could feel his stomach churn with anger and humiliation. Today, his father had ordered him to accompany him on some errands instead of leaving his son behind at the Manor as usual. However, Lucius Malfoy had been so engrossed in his own dealing that after a while he hadn't even noticed that Draco had wandered off bored by his father's businesses. 

Right now, he was casually leaning against a wall of Florish and Blotts, the bookshop right across from Gringotts. It was the perfect place when you wanted to watch by passers without being spotted by anybody else yourself. Who would care about a bookshop anyway? In the shop window were displayed the latest editions of _Hogwarts, A History _and a few other books that he suspiciously assumed to be on the new list of school supplies for next years pupils. He wouldn't miss his old school, well, maybe he would if he had to stay with his father a couple of more weeks, he certainly would wish himself back to his old dorm in the Slytherin Dungeons. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse since his father had decided to talk to him last night.

Despite the fact that it was early morning and most of the shops hadn't been open for longer than an hour, wizards and witches in colourful robes passed him by, some walking through the street, already burdened with parcels and shopping bags. Others stormed hurriedly through the crowd and some looked as if they just couldn't decide in which shop to go in first. There was nothing unusual about the scene in front of him, in fact, Draco soon got bored and his bad mood threatened to turn even worse as raindrops started splashing on the ground. Randomly at first, splish, splash, then, within seconds, the heavenly floodgates seemed to have fully opened and rain was hammering down upon London. Great. A typical English summer.

It didn't take long for the streets to be deserted. Most of the shoppers crowded in the shops and cafes, none of them keen on getting wet and neither was Draco, but at the moment he just didn't feel like being amongst others. He preferred to stay outside all on his own.

Grumpily, he kicked a pebble and watched it jump across the alley until it landed in a puddle of muddy rainwater. Splashing tiny drops of dirt on a pair of shoes.

Looking up, he recognized the only too familiar face at once. None other than Hermione Granger stood at the entrance of the bookshop, ready to buy more books to resume her sorry excuse of a life.

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"I know you didn't mean it that way, Ron," Harry said with a sigh and patted his friend on the shoulder. The two of them were sitting in the Weasley's kitchen, slowly sipping two steaming hot mugs full of hot chocolate with Bertie Bott's Magical Marshmallows.

"I don't have anything against Muggles and not a word of what I said was in any way racist…" Ron trailed off.

Harry had arrived only minutes after Hermione had left the Burrow. He and Ron had stayed up all night in the company of half of the rest of the Weasley clan, waiting for Hermione to return. It wasn't before midnight that Mrs. Weasley had sent Ginny and the twins upstairs to go to bed ("You may be of age but as long as you put your brooms into my broom shed, you do as I say, whether you like it or not!"). Then, she had made Ron and Harry write a letter to the Grangers, telling them that their daughter had been at the Burrow, but disapparated in a fury, and inquiring if she had returned home in the meantime.

Against Ron's wishes to use Pig, his mother had insisted on sending Errol as he was the more experienced owl and would certainly behave better towards a Muggle family then Pig would. Unfortunately, the result of this decision was that now, even a good nine hours after they had sent him, they still hadn't got a reply.

Twice, the noise of arriving owls swooping into the kitchen through the wide-open window had startled them already. First it had been an owl delivering the Daily Prophet and afterwards a Hogwarts School owl had brought both Harry and Ron their N.E.W.T exam results, but the only person in the house paying the letters attention at the moment, was Mrs. Weasley. Every time she would come in the kitchen, she would glance at them lying untouched next to the sink. Once, she even made a desperate attempt to get her son and his friend to open them by reminding them how important the results were for their future lives, but as soon as she was about to say something, she caught a sad look of Ron, sighed and clamped her mouth shut again.

"That stupid owl probably collapsed on their doorstep and needs to be brought back here by Hermione's parents," Ron grumbled and threw another Marshmallow into his mug, so violently that some of the steaming chocolate was spilled on the table.

"She's probably gone back home, mate. I mean, it's Hermione, she's the most sensible person on this planet. She might have been in a fury when she left, but by know she'll have come back to her senses, I'm sure," said Harry. "Besides," he added, "she knows how to take care of herself."

"Yeah, I guess she does," was Ron's weak reply. He felt guilty. After all, it had been his fault that she had left, but he really hadn't meant what he had said. Well, he had, but not in the way Hermione had interpreted it.

"Look whom I found on the doorstep!" Mrs. Weasley announced swiftly entering the kitchen from the living room and interrupting the boys' conversation. Putting Errol right down on the middle of the table, she continued, "I told you he would be here with a reply soon!"

The old owl hooted indignantly and nibbled on a marshmallow, while Ron and Harry nearly knocked their mugs off the table, so hurriedly did they jump to their feet and try to untie the piece of parchment from Errol's leg.

It was Ron who read the short note first with Harry nervously glancing over his shoulder.

_"Dear Harry and Ron,_

_We so hoped that Hermione would be with you. She still hasn't come home yet and it is already dawning. Since she is not at the Burrow anymore, we have no choice but to inform the police if we don't hear from her._

_Mrs. Granger"_

Ron put the letter back on the table. Despite the remains of his sunburn, his face had turned quite pale.

"She didn't go home, Harry," he said wearily, but didn't get an answer.

In the meantime Mrs. Weasley had picked up and read the note as well. Placing the innocently looking sheet of paper back on the table, she assumed her usual, rather composed and practical attitude, even though a soft shimmer of worry gleamed in the corners of her eyes.

"Well, maybe Hermione went to one of her other friends. Don't worry dear, Hermione is a clever girl. Who else could she have gone to? What about any of her other school friends?" she suggested and indeed, Mrs. Weasley's suggestion sounded convincing, only that both Harry and Ron knew that Hermione didn't have any other friends she would rely on in such a case. Sure, she had shared a dormitory for six long years with Lavender Brown and one of the Patil twins, yet they had never been close friends and, to be honest, Hermione had been more than glad when she was made Head Girl and got her own dorm.

The boys looked at each other worried and alarmed. Their best friend had disappeared out of her own accord, which was something none of the two would have ever thought to be possible. Unspoken questions hung in the air between them. Wasn't Hermione too grown up to do something of the likes? What if something had happened to her?

It was Harry's voice that suddenly cut through the silence, sounding flat and concerned.

"We've got to go find her."

Ron only gave him a tight nod. A cold hand seemed to have gripped him by his throat and wouldn't let him speak anymore.

* * *

As soon as Hermione had stepped out of Gringotts, she could feel the raindrops beating down on her head and shoulders, soaking through her jeans and her t-shirt. She hadn't bothered to put on a robe or her coat, because the Leaky Cauldron where she had spent the last night, was right across from the huge wizarding bank anyway. She felt quite awful that she had stayed in the inn without any Wizarding Money at hand to pay Tom, the inn-keeper. So first thing in the morning she had gone straight to the bank and gotten enough money to pay for her room and a decent breakfast and later on she would go and console herself by buying a few of the latest books on the History of Aurors. Then there would always be time to go and think about what she would do next.

The instant she had arrived in the pub yesterday and dropped her bag in her room for the night, she had started crying, feeling betrayed by both her family and Ron. For a split second she had thought about paying Harry a visit, but what good would it do to turn up on the Dursley's doorstep? She knew that Harry planned on moving out of his aunt and uncle's home to start living in Grimauld Place in a couple of days anyway and then she was sure that he would take her in. Right now, Hermione felt that she could not go back home to her parents. She had always tried to keep the gap between her parents' life and her wizarding one as small as possible, but over the years the break had become more and more visible, she only had been too blind to see it. She should have seen yesterday's éclat coming. Now, she had made her decision. Magic was an essential part of her life and she was not willing to give it up, whatever her parents might think would be best for her.

Hermione was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that her feet had unconsciously taken her to Flourish and Blotts, until she was just about to enter the bookshop. By now, her clothes were soaking wet and her usually unruly hair was plastered flat on her head.

A brief smile flashed across her face. Oh, she loved books and it looked as if there were as a new edition of her old History of Magic schoolbook as well. But there would be time for that later. First of all, she had to get back to the Leaky Cauldron, change her clothes and have breakfast, and then it would be time to give her parents a call. They would be worried to death since she hadn't returned home last night and it was time to get things straight with them.

Turning, she quickened her pace and practically ran back to the inn, unaware of someone following her through the rain.

* * *

He didn't know what exactly had made him follow the Mudblood. Perhaps it was just out of habit, because where ever the beaver-teeth girl would go, Potter and the Weasel were sure to be quite close and if he could get to hexing all three of them, it would surely brighten his day a lot.

However, he had been quite disappointed once he had found out that the Mudblood obviously was on her own. She had headed directly to the Leaky Cauldron and while he had seated himself at a table in the far corner of the pub and ordered a butterbeer, she had gone upstairs only to return a few minutes later, still wearing ordinary muggle clothes instead of decent robes. Now, she was having breakfast, sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The Daily Prophet was propped up against a water jug in front of her and she was reading the paper while alternately nibbling at a piece of toast and eating bits of scrambled eggs. He could remember that already in school she had always been reading when she was having breakfast. Then again, when hadn't her ugly nose been buried in a book or paper anyway? He snorted. Some things just didn't change.

Draco observed her closely, contemplating whether she had noticed his presence or not. Bit by bit a plan began to form in his mind. At first, he had dismissed the mere thought of it as ridiculous and stupid. Yet, the idea kept popping into his head, prodding him until he started to think about it again and again and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded to him. The Mudblood was on her own. No one was there to look after her. Perhaps this was a way to show his father that he was indeed worthy to be a Malfoy.

Twirling his wand idly in his hand he saw her stand up and walk over to Tom, handing him money to pay for her meal and if on cue, he watched her smile and walk off through the door, right into the heart of Muggle London.

Casually, he threw a galleon on the table to pay for his butterbeer, before he, too, strode out after her.

* * *

There had to be a phone booth somewhere near the inn, Hermione had been sure that there had always been one around the corner. Everybody else here in London probably had their own mobile phone, some might even own more than one, but Hermione had it never thought necessary to have one herself. After all, it wouldn't have worked in Hogwarts anyway and, besides, she wasn't particularly good when it came to handling electronic devices. A good, old-fashioned phone booth still worked quite fine for her. As she turned around to walk back to try and search in the other direction, she was greeted by a wand aimed directly at her face.

"Hello there, it's been quite a while, hasn't it?" he drawled lazily.

It took Hermione a second or two to process what was going on.

"Malfoy," she said, her tone icy and her eyes glaring at him. "When it comes to meeting you, eternity couldn't be a long enough wait for me." As if to underline her words, she pushed his wand away from her face and tried to shove past him.

"Uh-uh uh-uh uh," Draco mocked her and blocked her way. "Not so fast, Mudblood. Where do you think you're going?"

Hermione didn't bother to answer his question. Rage was welling up inside her and her hand went down to the waistband of her jeans where she had hidden her wand. She wasn't in school anymore and she surely wouldn't let him insult her any longer. She wouldn't hex him, no, the wand in her hand would be threat enough to make him back away. The wood felt smooth and cool in her fingers.

"Stupefy!" The word cut through the air without warning.

The curse hit her before she even had time to draw her wand. Immediately, her body stiffened and she fell forwards, right into the outstretched arms of one Draco Malfoy.

* * *

On the outside, he appeared as cool and immaculate as always, but inside, Lucius Malfoy was fuming. How dare his son run off? He had given him explicit orders to stay by his side and what did this little Muppet do? Defy him! Again! Oh, Draco was going to pay for this.

Already, the older Malfoy had nearly searched the entire Diagon Alley, starting with the Quidditch Supply Shop and then even considering to have a look if his son hadn't walked down Knockturn Alley, and now he paid the Leaky Cauldron a visit. Still, no sign of Draco. Suppressing a sigh, he left the pub. This time stepping into Muggle London and just as he was about to return into the safe haven of the Wizarding World, he caught a glimpse of silver-blond hair that was turning the corner, walking hurriedly down Elm's Street.

Who else could it be but his son? The hair colour was a dead giveaway. Determinedly, he went after the boy. However, as soon as he, too, turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Only a few yards away from him, there indeed was Draco Malfoy, yet, he was not alone. His son, his pureblood son, was hugging a girl! And not any girl, but Hermione Granger! A Mudblood!

If Draco's father had been angry before, he definitely was surpassing this feeling now. His son in the arms of a Mudblood, holding her so tightly as if she couldn't stand on her own two feet! A Mudblood, and even worse, Potter's Mudblood! The mere thought of it was revolting! His hand had already gone down to his cane and he was about to draw his wand and hex the two star-crossed lovers into oblivion, when suddenly, the Knight Bus appeared out of thin air in front of Draco and the Granger girl. The next second, they had vanished.

Lucius Malfoy was trembling with rage. Obviously, his son had flagged down the bus only seconds before Lucius had discovered them.

How long had this relationship been going on behind his back? How long had his own flesh and blood been planning to deceive him?

Never, never had he hated his son. He might not always have been proud of Draco, but still, he had been his son, a Malfoy, his heir. Now, Draco was nothing but a Mudblood lover.


End file.
